His eyes nailed her. Tyler’s grin indeed looked a little geeky as he shifted from one foot to the other, but his curious gaze took her back to the first time she was struck by Ross’s baby blues. Then it transported her farther, deeper than the sea and back again, in mere seconds. Her breath escaped in a sigh.
Chances are you’ve met him in previous lives. He’s an old soul in a young body. Had Lenore pegged it again? Angie was new to this New Age stuff, but she recognized patience and kindness, compassion and wisdom—and immediate, unconditional love. Tyler wasn’t dropping her hand as though she were some impossibly old woman, either. It seemed cliché, but Angie felt as if she’d known this kid forever.
“Okay, so I ran some numbers and figured you two would hit it off,” Ross remarked with a chuckle. His smile exuded relief. “But there’s always that shadow of a doubt, because all three of us are in a position we’ve never played before. Still, it’s a great afternoon. How ’bout we just run the dogs and chat, and then catch something for supper?”
“Long as it’s Hot Karma, I’ll make nice with your girlfriend,” Tyler teased. “Otherwise the inner brat makes a scene.”
Girlfriend. How long since she’d been anybody’s girlfriend? Is that what she was, considering she was nearly forty and Ross was a little older?
When Elvis nudged her with the Frisbee, she realized it didn’t really matter. Angie laughed and gave the disk a wobbly toss. The border collie bounded down the beach while Celine struggled valiantly to keep up, and the orientation ritual began.
Questions and answers: How Tyler was graduating a year earlier than most from the conservatory in Portland. How his grandparents needed more of his assistance these days, yet hesitated to ask for it. In return, he wanted the story about how Angie and Kyle Iverson, her newfound father, had rehabbed her bungalow. Ross strolled between them as they talked, commenting now and then. Looking totally happy.
Tyler wasn’t into vintage architecture, but because he idolized Kyle as a trombone player, he wanted to see Angie’s new home—and she couldn’t wait to hear him play. At this, she saw Ross grin. “I’ll keep that in mind, sugar, considering you celebrate a birthday next week,” he said with a big wink at his son. “T.C. can really rock that old upright in Lenore’s parlor. She’s even had it tuned, so you can’t complain that it sounds like something from a saloon.”
All three of them watched in silent awe as the sun set on the horizon, a fiery ball inching down the watercolor sky into the sea. Angie sighed contentedly, and Ross wove his fingers between hers.
“Anybody ready for some Karma?” he asked. “I’m thinking an order of rings and a root-beer float have to go with that.”
Tyler chortled. “Double cheese fries with a ketchup fix. A double—or maybe a triple—burger here. How about you, Angie?”
“Classic cheeseburger with a chocolate shake. Lots of dill pickle.”
“Got it. I’ll take the dogs home and go place our order while you old lovebirds toddle up the hill.” Tyler loped off with Elvis and Celine at his heels, his green T-shirt flapping against his slender body.
“Old lovebirds? Toddling up the hill?” Angie spouted. “Maybe you qualify for that, but—”
“Hey, he could’ve said something lots worse.” Ross’s smile waxed wicked and then he kissed her. “Gotta love a kid who gives us a little time alone. So, what do you think?”
Angie fought a sappy grin. Did she dare admit she visualized the three of them eating chili and playing board games on cold nights? Warm fuzzies overpowered her because she had the urge to cook for father and son, to be included in their conversations, their lives. Never mind that she saw these things happening in the bungalow on Windswept rather than at Ross’s place.
“That good, eh? The kid has that effect on older women. Lenore spoils him something awful.”
“Maybe because she doesn’t have kids?”
Ross stopped walking to kiss her hungrily, right there on the sidewalk. “Why are we talking about Lenore, when all I want to do is take you to that Murphy bed and make you naked?”
Angie giggled. Her cheeks tingled as she spotted Tyler at one of Hot Karma’s outside tables, gawking at them with those miss-nothing eyes. Ross didn’t remove his arm from around her waist, though, and she didn’t want him to.
As though magical, mystical timing was in high gear again, the ponytailed waitress brought their order to the table just as they arrived. It was so cool, so perfect, and they inhaled the aromas of hot grease and onions before attacking their burgers.
Ross was playfully snitching a fry from Tyler’s big, cheesy plateful when a cry like a siren erupted behind them. Before Angie could wince, Rita rushed up, her face a mask of rage and betrayal. “Tyler! You’re home from school, honey, and it’s been soooo long!” She crushed him in a hug, glaring at Angie. “You were going to tell me our son was home, weren’t you, Ross? You were going to invite me here.”
Angie laid her sandwich on her plate, fighting the urge to bolt. Ross, of course, had to deal with this intrusion head-on.
He made a point of chewing and swallowing. “Actually, no,” he said in a chilly voice. “You have his number, Rita, and I hadn’t planned on adding your theatrics to the mix today. Especially since we have broken up.”
“That is no way to talk in front of poor Tyler, when—”
“Okay, so I’m out of here.” The kid escaped his mother’s grasp and grabbed his Coke. He went to stand against Karma’s brick wall and focused on the ocean. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped his drink.
Angie felt horrible for Ross’s son. And what was she to do while Rita escalated this nasty little scene? Nearby diners were gawking openly, while people on the other side of the street glanced over with keen interest.
“Ross, I’ve never known you to be so rude! So downright despicable, going behind my back to—”
“No, Rita, we’re right here in front of God and everybody. We were enjoying our dinner, until you screeched in like a—”
“Don’t think for a minute I’ll take this sort of abuse from you.” Rita slapped him, hard.
As Ross rose from the table and grabbed his ex’s hand, Angie slipped over to where Tyler stood. Poor kid looked too mortified to jump into the fray, yet too polite to leave. She squeezed his shoulder. “Look, I’m really sorry this blew up, and—”
“Don’t you dare touch my son, you…you home-wrecking bitch!” Rita whirled in like a red tornado, eyes afire and auburn hair flying. She looked ready to grab Angie, but wrapped her arms protectively around Tyler instead.
He wrestled out of his mother’s grasp. “Back off! Just leave us alone, got it?”
There was a stunned silence. Tyler’s shoulders shook as he bit back whatever else he wanted to say. Rita gaped at him, her face pale and devoid of comprehension, and then her bravado crumpled. With a loud sob, she rushed between the tables, back toward her shop, and onlookers parted to make way for her.
With a disgusted sigh, Ross slipped an arm around his son’s waist, but Tyler was having none of it. “Later, Dad. Sorry.” He stalked off, leaving both Angie and his father behind.
Ross swore under his breath, agonized. “Angie, I can’t believe…I didn’t think Rita—”
“Hey, you can’t anticipate her every move or second-guess her for the rest of your life. We came here because Tyler wanted to.” Her heart thudded heavily as she took in Ross’s shattered happiness. Three plates of food mocked them from puddles of congealed grease. “You guys probably want to talk this out, so I’ll go back to the house. Kyle might come to install the security system sometime today.”
She headed down the street with a sigh. Several of the locals who’d caught the blowout with Rita knew her now—had seen her walking with Ross—and their speculative expressions made something very clear: Angie Cavanaugh was the Other Woman, the odd girl out of the Costello-McQueen trio. So, where did that leave her?
Or was she reading this situation wrong, out of habit? Seeing everythin
g—especially Rita—as a threat to her happiness? It was time to reframe what had just taken place…because, gee! This time it was Rita who’d run off bawling, while she had supported Tyler, the kid stuck in the middle.
Once again, however, Angie realized that some things wouldn’t change. Ross and Rita shared a history of more than twenty years, as well as a son. Kyle and Ross had played in the Wing Tips for nearly that long, while Rita sang with the band. Lenore had lived at the lodge since before her birth, and the medium loved these people as though they were her own children. Life in Harmony Falls spun in tight circles. The eccentric residents remained rooted forever, but tourists came and went with the beach seasons.
A tourist. That’s how she felt right now.
As she approached the glossy steps at 24 Windswept, Angie sensed this quaint little place would have to be her anchor if she was to weather the storm that was still brewing. This bungalow she’d always loved was a tangible, solid sign that she, too, was meant to be here in Harmony Falls. Hadn’t her Spirit called her here? Hadn’t Lenore confirmed that countless times? Didn’t Ross and Kyle assure her she belonged in this home, this town, every time they saw her?
Angie topped the steps and closed her eyes. It was time to listen to these dear friends—and to believe.
Twenty-Seven
“KYLE? You here?” she called into the house. Odd, that the front door was ajar when his pickup wasn’t in the driveway. Folks around Harmony Falls boasted of not locking their homes, but since the earlier incident with the earring, her father had advised her to be more careful.
“Kyle?” From where she stood in the center of the living room, she sensed no one else was here. Something about this silence bothered her—she hadn’t yet bought a TV to soak up her solitude—so she wandered from room to room. Time to pay attention to little signals that intuitives like Ross and Lenore acknowledged all the time.
The two old barrel chairs looked so cool with the marble-topped table between them. Fresh crisscross sheers glimmered in the dining-room window, framing the drop-leaf table. She twisted the switch on the hurricane lamp, sighing at its homey glow. The kitchen looked so clean and bright, complete with towels Lenore had embroidered for her.
All you add is love, she reminded herself. It might’ve been the jingle for an old dog-food commercial, but it still rang true, didn’t it?
Angie climbed the stairs, thinking how loudly they creaked in this quiet house. It was too late for Kyle to come install that security system, so she should go back to the lodge. Elena’s crochet club was meeting and their happy chatter would lift her mood.
You should learn to crochet—really give it a go this time. It would be a way to meet more friends who appreciate homey—
Angie stopped at her bedroom door, scowling. She had made the bed, yet the chenille bedspread lay in a heap on the floor and the sheets were wadded up in the middle of the mattress.
Her heart skittered as her mind made a connection. She looked and listened frantically but still heard only the ring of total silence. Crossing the hall she found the Murphy bed down, and its new mattress was streaked with oily smears of something that smelled distinctly like WD-40.
The can lay in the corner where the intruder had tossed it, probably the same can Kyle had sworn gremlins stole from his truck. Angie snatched the newspaper page sticking out from under the ruined mattress, and then she swore. A personal ad circled in red lipstick proclaimed, YOU MIGHT HAVE A NEW LIFE AND A NEW HOUSE HERE, ANGIE, BUT YOU’LL NEVER HAVE ROSS!
She shook all over. Rita must’ve sneaked in when she’d joined Ross and Tyler, after Lenore and Elena left, which suggested the devious woman had known she’d be gone for a while. She’d probably been watching them on the beach, and then she’d staged that confrontation at Hot Karma. And since the ad was in today’s paper, those people in town had probably seen it before they witnessed Rita’s big scene. They’d probably even taken bets on who’d still be standing after the smoke cleared.
Anger gushed up inside her like a geyser ready to spout. Angie rushed out the door. It was one thing to create a scene on the main street of town but something else entirely to enter her home and destroy property! Not to mention placing that ad in the paper, where Ross’s clients would see it.
Intent on giving Ms. McQueen a piece of her mind, Angie hurried to the Tea and Tarot. But when she arrived, the CLOSED sign hung in the window. The shop was dark, as was the apartment upstairs. Angie smacked the door glass with her palm, peering inside to see if Rita was hiding, smirking at her from behind the counter. Despite the fact that it was dusk and the only businesses open were restaurants, she had half a mind to hurl a rock through the plate-glass window Rita had replaced before their trumped-up tarot session.
Approaching headlights made her squint. Ross hopped out of his Navigator, wearing a determined expression that matched her own. He was waving a newspaper.
“You, too?” he rasped. “Found this in my mail slot after I rode around with Ty, trying to settle him down. First time he’s ever challenged his mother, and he’s a mess over it. But I’m not.” He whipped out his cell phone and punched the speed dial. “She can pretend she’s not up there, but Rita’s going to answer to me.”
“Found mine under the Murphy bed, which she’d saturated with WD-40,” Angie rasped. Something inside her snapped at the magnitude of Rita’s prank. She’d had every good intention of reframing this vicious cycle—but the road to hell was paved with good intentions, wasn’t it? “She was in my house, Ross. Sneaked in while we were walking the beach, and…and…I’m finished with this! Finished!”
Ross grabbed her, cussed as the phone rang and rang. “Angie, please.”
“No more. I’m moving my stuff out before—”
“You can’t let her do this to us!”
“When does it end? Huh? Tell me that, Ross!” She jerked free of his grip, not caring that her voice rang against the fronts of the buildings and echoed back to strolling passersby. Not caring that Ross Costello looked as exasperated as she felt. “How many chances do you expect me to give this? I gave Gregg the benefit of the doubt too many times, and you saw where it got me!”
“Let me take you home. We’ll report the damages to the sheriff,” he implored her. “And if you don’t feel safe staying there tonight—”
“Oh, I’ll be perfectly safe,” Angie spouted, “because I’ll launch myself at Rita, or anyone vaguely resembling her who happens to approach me, before they know what’s hit them!”
“Maybe it’s a good time to bring Lenore in on this stuff,” Ross finished doggedly. “Maybe we both should go there. But please don’t leave, honey. Tyler is so psyched about playing with the band tomorrow night—for you—at the birthday bash we’ve cooked up.”
She focused on his face, a study of contrasting shadows in the street lights. “What birthday bash? How do I know you’re not making this up to—”
Ross took her gently by the shoulders. “It was partly my idea, and Lenore joined in. When T.C. heard about it, he called all the guys. He wanted to surprise you, because he loves jamming with them, and…and I hope you won’t disappoint him, honey.” He took a long breath. “Rita called his cell while we were driving around just now. He informed her he’s tired of being caught in the middle, played like a pawn. It…it took a lot out of him, but he stood up to her. We’re all standing up to her.”
Angie sucked in cool night air, noticed Ross’s son in the passenger seat, watching. Ross wasn’t using the kid to get at her, was he?
Don’t even go there! You felt how upset Tyler was when Rita latched on to him at dinner. Now he’s rejected her twice. For you. Just as Ross has been doing.
She let her breath out slowly. Fought for rational thought. “Okay. Take me home,” she murmured. Her legs were shaking and she wished she’d grabbed a jacket. “I’ll talk to the sheriff and then I’m going back to the lodge. Do you know how icky it feels, knowing Rita’s been inside my home, watching me so she’ll know when I’m n
ot there? It’s got to stop. That’s all there is to it.”
Tyler slid out of the passenger seat and held the door open for her. She gave him a shaky smile and climbed inside.
“YOU should always remember, dear, that you have no need to go looking for love. You are love. Totally, completely, made of love.” Lenore leaned forward to pour her another cup of chamomile tea as they sat at her table in the dim kitchen. She looked like a goddess in her white pajamas, fully alert despite the late hour. “You must give love not to receive love back or to attract it, but because it’s who you are. It’s why you’re here. It’s why we’re all here.”
“Yeah, well some of us have a funny way of showing it, don’t we?” Angie sighed tiredly. The wrath had drained away, but that didn’t change how vulnerable she felt—and how torn between making it work with Ross and breaking away from Harmony Falls altogether.
Lenore’s mouth quirked. “As we’ve discussed before, nobody likes change. Rita’s feeling very threatened. Can you imagine how it devastated her when her son flew in her face, jerked away from her embrace in front of folks she knows because your presence suddenly compelled him to stand up for himself?”
“Oh, I’ve thought about that. But it doesn’t give her the right to put ads in the paper or to sneak into someone’s home. Not that I have the right—”
“It is your home, dear. It’s what brought you and your birth father together after all these years, and it’s given you and Ross the basis of a new relationship.” Lenore’s crystalline eyes sparkled in the light from a candle that flickered on the counter. “I know better than to think you’ll give it all up for the likes of Rita. And consider this, Angela: twenty-some years ago, it was Rita McQueen who came to town and caught Ross’s eye. Changed his life in a heartbeat. Cost him a wife and brought him a son. And now you have arrived as the agent of another major change.”
Law of Attraction Page 25